#TFATWS!Bucky concept

[littleredwolf]

The Sleepover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 1,740

Summary: Bucky and Y/N have been dating for a while but he is yet to spend the night at her place. After breaking down barriers and allowing himself to drop his guard, Bucky soon decides it’s finally time to take the next step. 

Warnings: Mentions of Bucky’s PTSD/recovery 

A/N: This was inspired by the scene in TFATWS that shows Bucky waking up on his apartment floor. It’s such a visceral moment that sheds light on just how much trauma he carries with him, and I wanted to bring some lightness to that in the form of Y/N. Long story short, I just wanted our favourite super soldier to receive the comfort he so desperately needs and deserves.

--

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the unmistakable roar of Bucky’s motorcycle pulling up outside, and you launched yourself off the couch to greet him. The two of you had been dating for a little over four months now but tonight was the first time he was staying over and you were practically vibrating with excitement. 

You had met a year ago when you’d been paired together on a scouting mission in Bucharest, spending an intensive four weeks trailing a suspected arms dealer. After spending the better half of a month shacked up together in a dingy apartment, it was inevitable you'd open up to one another eventually. After months of skirting around your feelings and your friends encouraging you both to speak up, the two of you had eventually plucked up the courage to confess your feelings and the rest, as the saying goes, was history. 

Bucky had been a true gentleman from the very beginning and had confessed early on that he'd wanted to take things slow - it had been a long time since he'd courted a woman and thanks to his coloured past he'd all but given up on the prospect of love, so the concept of a relationship was one he still sometimes struggled to get his head around. 

You understood completely and had made every effort not to overwhelm him. You were fully aware of his trauma and the suffering he'd endured and endeavoured to provide him with a calm, safe space that allowed him to let his guard down in a way he was comfortable with.

Over the last few months he'd gotten much better with touch and now it was at a point where he practically craved it. Whether he was holding your hand, laying his head in your lap while you watched TV or wrapping his arms around you from behind while you were cooking dinner, Bucky loved touch and would always find an excuse to be near you or touching you in some way. You were more than happy to indulge his needs and fussed over him at every opportunity, joking that he was like an overgrown puppy when it came to affection.

You could have cried with how sweet he’d been when he’d kissed you for the first time - he was so careful as he’d tenderly pressed his lips to yours, as though expecting to break you, and in that moment it had dawned on you that he probably wasn’t used to being so gentle towards another human being. 

It was so fulfilling witnessing this once broken man rebuilding and flourishing in his new life, and you felt truly honoured that he wanted you to be a part of it. 

At the sound of a knock at the door your excitement grew to an almost immeasurable amount, and you took a moment to gather yourself before answering. 

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d gone to bed alone after spending an evening with Bucky, aching for him to be beside you, and although you understood and respected his reasons for not staying you couldn’t help the sting of loneliness that crawled in whenever he left at the end of an evening.

The sight of him standing in your doorway with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder was one you’d never dared to believe you’d witness, yet here he was, casually leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to answer the door. 

“Hey Buck,” you grinned, stepping forward to greet him with a kiss which he eagerly welcomed. Wrapping his arms around you, he guided you backwards into your apartment, dropping his bag and kicking the door to a close behind him. You were breathless when he pulled away, staring up at him in awe.  

“Wow, that was…just, wow,” you marvelled, completely lost for words. 

“I could hear your heartbeat so I thought I’d ease some of your nerves,” he smirked, and your cheeks reddened at his confession. 

“Dammit Barnes, I told you not to use your super hearing on me. What if I was in the bathroom!?”

“You think I haven’t heard you pee before?” His laughter - one of your favourite sounds - echoed around the room as you shot him a horrified glare, and he quickly pulled you into his embrace to ease your embarrassment. 

“I’m reconsidering this sleepover already,” you grumbled into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in his leathery scent. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. 

“Come on doll, why don't you show me where I’ll be sleeping.”

You immediately perked up at his words - which you suspected was his plan - and with a grin you grabbed his bag and led him to the bedroom to unpack.

–

The evening passed like any other - you cooked dinner, played some board games, and ended the night cuddled up on the couch with a movie - but instead of falling asleep in Bucky's arms like you usually did, you felt wide awake. 

Bucky switched off the TV as you began to tidy away your empty glasses and snacks, and an awkward silence hovered over the room as you both pondered how to navigate the rest of the evening. 

"So, sweetheart…what do you usually do at this point?" Bucky broke the silence as he came to lean against the counter beside you.    

"Well, usually, once you've left I go to bed," you replied, realising that the suggestion of going to bed may be misinterpreted and quickly adding, "but we don't have to do that yet if you're not tired." 

Bucky's hand came to rest on your arm and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly. 

"It's okay, doll. I'm happy to go to bed," he murmured, trailing his hand down to entwine his fingers with yours and leading you to your room. 

You were already in your pyjamas so you slipped straight under the covers while Bucky walked round to the other side of the bed and began undressing down to his boxers. You couldn't resist a sneaky peek while his back was turned, and as soon as you gave in to your temptation you regretted it immediately - Bucky's chiselled body was truly a sight to behold and one you were sad to have to tear your eyes away from. 

"Would you like me to strike a pose?" Your boyfriend's playful voice broke your train of thought and you snapped your eyes to his, finding him smirking at you with his hands on his hips. 

You'd been caught red handed, and red faced! Your cheeks were blazing and you pulled the covers up to hide your face as Bucky crawled in next to you. The embarrassment quickly dissolved once he was laying next to you, your mind suddenly too preoccupied to care, and you turned to face him with a grin. 

"You're here," you said gleefully, melting into his open arms. 

"I'm here," he echoed, his smile mirroring yours.

With a tender kiss he pulled you closer, tucking you under his chin in a firm but gentle embrace, and soon you found the tendrils of slumber pulling you into the sleepy abyss. 

– 

A few hours later you were awoken by a cold breeze at your back, and you reached your hand out in the darkness, heart sinking when an empty bed greeted you. 

Had Bucky left? Had he changed his mind about spending the night? Had you imagined the whole thing? 

Your thoughts teetered on a downward spiral as you sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, but your insecurity quickly turned to confusion when you looked to your side and found that not only was Bucky missing from your bed, but his pillow was too. 

Eyebrows knitting together, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up to try and solve the mystery, but you didn't get very far before your foot bumped into something solid. 

Bucky. 

The super soldier sat bolt upright at your touch, wide eyes staring straight ahead, and for a moment you feared he'd forgotten where he was altogether. He soon came to his senses, however, shaking off any remnants of sleep and looking up at you with a sheepish expression. 

"I, uh…sometimes find it hard to sleep," he offered, fidgeting with the blanket he must have grabbed from the couch. "Sorry, I'm still kinda getting used to the idea of a comfortable bed." 

He chuckled dryly and your chest tightened at his doleful expression - here was this brave, strong man who had been through hell, and he was apologising!? 

That just would not do. 

"Oh, Buck," you cooed, sinking to your knees in front of him and holding his face in your hands. "You don't need to apologise for anything." 

His eyes met yours and you hoped he could see the love and sincerity in them. The guards he worked so hard to keep up slipped just a tiny bit, and he gave you a tearful smile as he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. Kissing the top of his head, you turned and reached up to grab your pillow off the bed, setting it on the floor beside his before reaching back again for the covers. 

"You don't have to do this, doll. You won't be comfortable," he protested once he realised you were intending to join him, but you simply waved a hand to quiet him.

"We're in this together now baby," you softly reassured, adjusting the blanket so it covered the both of you. "I'm right here with you every step of the way." 

You kissed him deeply and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down with him as he laid back on the hardwood floor. By no means was it comfortable and you knew in the morning your back would be aching, but none of that mattered while you were at Bucky's side. 

He'd been fighting his demons for so long, and he'd likely be fighting them for a long time to come, but there was no way you were going to let him continue fighting them alone. 

Tucked tightly into Bucky's side, your head on his chest and the sound of his heart beating in your ears, you fell back to sleep with surprising ease, and neither you, nor Bucky, woke again until morning. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #winter soldier #avengers #sebastian stan #ptsd #trauma

[whatsagauntlet]

If we're to go with dreams as a window to the multiverse, then it accidentally fixes a tiny fraction of a characterization issue in TFatWS, or accidentally makes it worse?? Because it means that another universe's Bucky is still with Hydra and, going by his spoken Hail Hydra, believes in the cause, which :( and would definitely be a nightmare

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #mcu #choosing to ignore it anyway as i think the concept is dumb #and no way letting the show writers off the hook for their idiocy

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If it was one thing that Bucky should expect when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd, adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep, that Bucky could see from a mile away, had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medical helpers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties, heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heros of the country'.

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again as he informed, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to."

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve was there too.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the medic staff went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty and only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind. She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask thingy plastered with the obvious letter.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn. She guessed that the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh Steve?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure when she insisted for him to stay.

But alas, Steve was also as stubborn as her.

It took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this." In which Y/N countered, "And he also remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sighed before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N took the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously untangled himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the woman, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship with Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's my good friend from home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which Y/N gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to asked Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism, clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxitey slowly choked her, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground. Her elbows bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

And for a moment Y/N thought her prayers were graciously granted by God, as the crowd was getter louder and the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice still stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a war?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for enlistment, she knew. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, she had never charmed him more.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N closer snuggled into him one last time, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home that's laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the message for her to understand. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they  unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the floor, that was when she wailed; an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face if God with loath, rage, despair, and tears.

The night was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war. And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few month back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted her white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, God had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the 2nd life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her 6th life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her 6th life was filled with rage and vengeance that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her 7th life, with a new name that was given by her 7th parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her 1st life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so hugely on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her 6th life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does, when the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth because who would've believe her words?

She wasn't Steve. There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N. She looked like she was in her teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around the thin of her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her 6th life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her 6th life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business, seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her 6th life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the table of bar. The attacker's face turned away from her where she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her 6th life; but his was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper arm. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #1940s!bucky #tfatws!bucky

[vase-of-lilies]

Efforts to Make Amends

❀ Tfatws!Bucky x Mom!reader (f)

❀ Non-con and rape (DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE IT), past abuse, past parental abuse, mentions of captivity, fluff, childbirth, some suicidal ideation (but no actions), taking of virginity, some after sex bleeding, talking badly about a baby, pregnancy, dad bucky 🥺 (if there is anything else, PLEASE let me know!)

❀ Word Count: 6.3k

❀ A/N: This came to mind when I was just thinking about Buck:) I don’t know if this is already a concept, but if it is here is my take on it! :D

The cry of the newborn baby sent shivers down your spine. Not a scared shiver, or a nervous shiver. Just a shiver. You are her mother now, and you can not let this baby down. You won’t let this baby down. As the nurse gently handed the bundle of joy over to you in a pink blanket, you laid eyes on the most beautiful little thing in the world. With her eyes barely open to see, her blue eyes stared back into your own. 

Tears filled your eyes as you held her to your chest, her babbles slowly dying down to soft breaths. You smiled down at the tiny human in your arms, clutching onto your finger softly. You heard the heart monitor go off, and you immediately held your daughter tighter in your arms. Not wanting to let her go, not for one second. Your OB/GYN entered the room, smiling brightly with the paperwork of your brand new baby. 

“All is well with your little girl. I’ll let you decide on a name and we can fill out this boring stuff.” She chuckles and sits next to you on the bed. 

“Oh, I really like this one.” She hums softly at the baby names in question. She points to the fourth one on the list that you made on a piece of paper. “Clarisse” is the name she chose. It was your mother's name. Bright, shining, gentle, and brave. She was your advocate through the years you were held captive by your own father. 

Of course the circumstances of how this child came into this world is not how you imagined it, you are still eternally grateful to have her in your life. 

It was at this moment you knew all too well what you had to do. You had to start brand new; New name, address, hair color. Everything you can to stay away from the life you were forced into as a child. Going by the name Carla, you set off out of the police station with your new ID, and a new life ahead of you. You couldn’t hold back the smile that had formed on your face by the time you made it to the bus stop. 

Paying the bus driver, you sat down on the bench by the window. Carefully holding your newborn baby to your chest, you stare out the window at the passing cars, buildings, and people. All making their way home from work or even to work. Even the people who call themselves “superheroes” have a home to go to, don’t they? No matter where you go, you know you have to provide what's best for this baby. The police were some help, getting you your ID, colored contacts as well as a wig and a new passport. But it was a long, aggravating process. With every woman looking at your baby with prying eyes, getting ready to let their lips loose in the daily office gossip session. 

Finally, it was time to leave. It was time to leave the life you were previously living, and set off on a new adventure with a new companion.

~~~~~~~

Arriving at the airport, you follow the directions to buy a ticket to Spain. With what little Spanish you knew was not the problem at this point. It was getting away from a crime populated city such as New York. The culture, the people, and the ocean around the country felt like the safest option. 

“ID, ma’am.” You heard the woman at the desk say. Pulling out your ID, you make sure it is your new one. This has a special hidden key trustworthy people can scan that tells them you are a witness in protection. They are very caring with you, and question nothing if you hesitate with your new name. “Carla Davenport. Date of birth November eighteenth.” Fuck! What's the year?? “Year?” The woman asks. “U-uhm, 2001...” You almost say it as a question, but the woman smiles and hands you back your ID. 

“Enjoy Spain!” She says from the desk, and onto security you go.

~~~~~~~

The plane ride was long, and agonizing with how anxious you were. But Clarisse easily soothed your nerves. The looks people gave you were noticeable, and the last few people to board on the plane seemed reluctant to sit next to you. A newborn on a plane is someone's worst nightmare. But Clarisse was a sleepy girl, and slept a majority of the flight. The moments she did start to cry, you knew she either had to be changed, or was hungry. Once you went to the bathroom, you sat on the toilet and began to breastfeed your little girl.

The mirror that was across from you, a woman you barely recognized stared back. False black-dyed locks fell around an exhausted, hurt, and abused mother. There wasn’t much that stared back. You peeled your eyes away from the mirror, and pinned them back on your little girl. Clarisse was enjoying her milk, and was soon going to fall into a milk coma. You just knew it. 

Sighing as you sit back down, you look back out the window. The night sky was absolutely beautiful at this time, and you loved what it looked like. Even though Clarisse was asleep, you still pointed out the lights along the coast that shaped the continent of Africa, and soon to the lights that covered Madrid. Your new home town. 

As the plane landed, you stopped at the gift shop to get a Spanish-to-English dictionary to start learning. Also stopping at a small convenience store in the airport, you exchanged all of your US dollars to Euros and bought some diapers and a diaper bag as well. It was the small things that the program didn’t provide that seemed to be the biggest issues for you. But you were grateful for the small apartment they found, and even more grateful that they provided rent for the first year of living there. 

Getting a job will be difficult, but you knew that you would figure it out somehow. With how populated the world is, there is bound to be an English speaking job for you out there. But that was the least of your worries right now. What you needed the most was food, sleep, and a warm blanket for you and Clarisse. All that you needed for a couple nights was already at the apartment, and you were eternally grateful. 

Finally getting to the small one bedroom apartment, you immediately lock the door behind you, and set off to the small bedroom. There is a mattress on the floor as well as a few blankets and a pillow, but other than that nothing much else. It was simple, and you liked it. Just for you and your little girl. You smiled as you saw the view out the window. The beautiful city lights shone through the fire escape balcony, giving a soft glow in the bedroom. It felt safe. 

Getting out a diaper and some wipes, you begin to change Clarisse. “I know sweet girl, it’s been a long day.” You whisper, giving soft kisses to her face as she babbles into the open air. “Are you gonna sleep well tonight? Hm? Or are you gonna keep me up?” You chuckle at the small girl in front of you, and you softly tickle her sides. Her incoherent giggles are music to your ears, and it is nothing like you have ever heard before. “You are so beautiful my little flower.” You smile, nuzzling your nose against hers softly.

After getting Clarisse all settled, you decided to move the mattress just under the window to get the perfect view of the night sky. You lay your head on the pillow, a feeling you haven’t felt in a very long time. Your little girl snuggled right up next to you, and stared up at the sky as well. You knew she would grow up to be the best little girl there is, and there is no doubt about that.

~~~~~~~

Sweat covered your forehead as you ran through the cold Russian woods. Barely escaping the Hydra base with your ankles not broken. You kept running until you knew you were far enough away to take a breath. But oh... were you wrong. The Winter Soldier was right behind you, every step of the way. It almost felt like he was in the trees, stalking your every move just like your father had conditioned him to. 

The man was silent as he looked for you, but the silence screamed death. You were terrified, and rightfully so. Even trying to hold your breath so no one could see it, including you, was one of the only options to stay hidden. Besides trying to hide within the trees, and snow on the ground. It was hopeless. You could already hear the crunching of the snow underneath the heavy combat boots of the Winter Soldier coming your way. 

This was it, you were going to die. You never knew why your father kept you in the base, but he would not be disappointed to hear that you were gone for good. Maybe it was for the best. No one would have to worry about keeping you silent, or contained. With the secrets you know, you could uncover the world's most dangerous criminals, documents, and codes to plenty of nuclear energy. But you swore to your mother you would never tell a soul. She loved her husband and her daughter equally, but her caring nature made her keep the world she lived in safe. 

You were in your thoughts for too long. ‘Fuck-’ you suck in a breath, not moving an inch as you feel the cold blade barely cut into your neck. “Please...” you couldn’t believe you were begging for mercy, but you were strong. You had to stay alive; for your mother. “Cooperate and I won’t kill you...” the soldier said in a dark voice. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t going to kill you. 

Instead of questioning him, you gave a small nod. “Good girl.” He whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine. Soon the cold spread from your arms all the way down to your most intimate parts. He had sliced away at your thin hospital-like gown, and stripped you bare. You couldn’t do anything with a knife to your neck so you stayed still. “Please d-don’t, I-I’ll go back wi-with you, just p-please!” You quietly beg him, but he has already stripped himself of his own tactical pants. 

He ignored your pleas, commanding you “Be a good girl and lay on your back...” A whimper left your throat and you froze. “N-no.” You stated, calmly. Instant regret filled your veins as he swiped his foot underneath yours and you fell to the ground. Your head hit a root sticking out from the ground and your vision was rendered blurry. “P-please...” Your attempt of a small plea exited your mouth, but you gave up. 

His veiny, god-like sculpted cock filled your cunt to the brim. You tried to scream, but nothing would come out. He started to thrust, and thrust, and thrust. It felt like it never ended. His blue eyes stared into your dull y/e/c eyes with no emotion or mercy. He was told to do this to you, and it traumatized you. With no luck, you tried to push him away but he was quick to pin your hands above your head with his strong arms. One metal, one flesh. 

“It's ok... just take it...” Was he trying to comfort you? 

“I- I can’t...” 

“You will.” That was the very last thing before you were left in darkness, unconscious and barely alive. 

~~~~~~~

Clarisse lets out a small cry, waking you up instantly. “Hey sweet pea, shh shh mommas got you.” You whisper to her, gently rocking her in your arms. You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew for sure you only slept a wink. You stayed up the rest of the night, helping her to sleep, feeding her every now and then, and getting only some sleep yourself. You were more than happy to stay awake for her, and that was a sacrifice you were willing to take. 

Once the sun started to come up, you yawned and decided to see what snacks you had brought from the airport. Some ChexMix and an apple was enough until you gathered enough courage to go grocery shopping. It had to be about 9:00 once Clarisse started to wake up. Swaying her as she drank from your breast, you hummed her a soft song and smiled from above her. As she drank, you began to grab what money you had, Charisse's baby bag and a face mask just in case someone did end up recognizing you. It would be lethal to have anyone from Hydra even know you exist. 

~~~~~~~

Bucky POV:

Of course I regret everything. I have to live with what I have done every day of my life, and deep down I know that I can’t blame myself for my actions. It’s not something to get used to. Some would say that I have gotten used to hearing the last breath come from someone's gurgling throat. Some would say that “he likes to watch them die.” But in truth, nothing is worse than seeing someone's life drain from their eyes just like a painting being washed away; the paint clinging to life to stay on the canvas but the water just too damn strong. 

A victim I remember very clearly, said whilst looking through the barrel of my gun “Fools make romance of death, for it is brutal and cruel. That I say be at peace with my passing is not such a thing. But once it is done, I will be safe and sound once more. I will live as long as I can, be with you as many days as we are sent, then keep me in your memories. I will see you again. That is a promise.” He was right, I would see him again. Not in heaven, or hell where I belong. But in my nightmares every single night. Therapy can only do so much for a broken, lost and helpless soldier. Let alone a 106 year old one. 

However, I was slowly making amends with the people who were fortunately left alive. Yori Nakasima, the sweet old man I have lunch with every Tuesday is just an example. He was not a victim, but his son was. He was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, and in turn he fell straight to the line of fire. My line of fire. No matter how much I try, I can never expel the begging that came from his mouth. He was innocent and had absolutely nothing to do with that mission. Simply… a loose knot that had to be tied tight. Yori and I went our own ways, and it makes me happy to see him still go to the same restaurant every Tuesday. He may not remember our conversation, but rest assured he can sleep knowing what happened to his son. 

One more name.

One more name and I can throw this damned book away.

Y/n Y/L/n. 

Y/n has been on this list for four to eight months now. Her name staring back at me with anger and regret. God why did her own father make me do this? Thoughts were racing through my head as I searched for Y/n, but nothing came up besides death certificates. She can’t be dead. She has to be alive, I know that she got out of there alive… Going deep into police, military and FBI/CIA records, along with the witness protection program as a sergeant, I was able to find someone by the name of Carla Davenport. I obviously knew this was wrong, and I was mostly doing this for myself. But there was one part of me that wanted to tell her that she is safe, and that she could finally rest with her guard down. 

Doing further research, I finally came across an address. I lucked out by being in Madrid at the time with Zemo and Sam while I did my research. All I had left was to confront her and tell her my intentions. Knowing Y/n, she would be feisty, careful but most likely fearless. I know her, and she would fight with every last cell of energy in her body to win. I slightly jump as I hear my phone buzz and I answer Sam.

“Hey Sam.” I said, jotting down Y/n’s new address. I heard a sigh on the other line, and I knew I was in for something. 

“I got a call from a CIA agent who found a breach in the witness protection program. Was that you?” Sam replies. 

“Uh, why would you think it would be me? I have no reason to be on that site in the first place.” Seriously? What kind of answer was that?? “Dr. Raynor told me you needed to find some people… Buck come on man, we could have done this together.” 

“Whatever happened to patient privacy? I found what I needed, so can I log out and be on my way?”

“Listen, I know you’re hurting. Especially over Y/n. I'll help you find her, but can we please do it the legal way?” He sounded convincing enough that he actually wanted to help, but I knew that it was just a ploy. Or, maybe that was my irrational thoughts talking for me.

“I’ve gotta do this on my own. She is the last one before I can finally go out and live how I want to. She will determine if I deserve to be free.” There was silence for a short period of time, and then another soft sigh from the man on the other line. 

“Alright, fine. But if I get one more phone call telling me you did something illegal, you’re kicked off my team for charades, and you are going to talk with Dr. Raynor. Do you understand?” 

I chuckled at his threat, and I nodded to myself. “Yeah, Sam. I understand. I wouldn’t want to bother Captain America with calls from random CIA agents about the site of witnesses in protection. This is honestly something Raynor should have let me do. She was the one who told me to “use your resources'' where there was nothing else to use. Anyway, I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow Buck. Have a good night.” 

Hanging up the phone, I sigh and I finish writing down the information from the website. Now that I knew where she lived, it would then be the hard part of everything. Telling her what I did, and apologizing for it. 

~~~~~~~

Your POV:

It had now been three full weeks of living in Madrid and you were living your best life! You had a desk job dealing with English complaints for a website that was fully in Spanish, and your little girl could be with you all day long. Being able to earn a stable living was nice in such a large and new country. Also with your new way of life, you were not living off of ramen and buttered toast. You were able to make full meals with fresh ingredients from the finest vendors just down the street from your apartment. Steamed vegetables, freshly cooked meat that only needed a little bit of heating in the oven and your own seasonings and finally the glorious, melt-in-your-mouth Churros con Chocolate was what you were blessed with for dessert. It was heaven, and you were living in it with such happiness. 

Clarisse is now one month old, and has been a little more aware of what she can do with her body. Even at this young age, she knows who you are and who you are to her. Soon she’ll be running around on two healthy legs with energy skyrocketing every second. Watching her grow up is the highlight of your life, and you never wanted it to end. Her eyes would scan each room you went through, each aisle you walked down, and even grabbed up at you from your arms as you made your way down to the baby section. Clothes, shoes, food. Clothes, shoes, food. All you needed was those three things, and you would be on your way. 

It was a relief that you had not encountered a challenge by anyone. Not when little Clarisse cried for a little bit, and not even when the panic set in at the sound of the bustling cars outside the store. It was a success, and you could not wait to get home. Checking out with ease, you held Clarisse close to you as you took your groceries in the small basket on the back of your bike, and strapped the little girl into her car seat carrier on the front of your bike. “All safe and sound, my sweet girl,” You whisper, gently putting her blanket over her. On the way back to your apartment, you followed the same route to and from. Two lefts, a right, up the hill and to the left. It was almost a song you replayed over and over in your head, just to help you get home. Just like your mother taught you;

Down the hall and to the left, a little bit longer, up the stairs and in my arms you go! This song was to navigate the hallways of the large house your father had bought your family before he decided to keep you as his own lab rat. 

Once you made it into the safe walls of your home, the lock was the first thing in place after putting your bike inside. Clarrise still strapped in her seat, you rolled the bike to the far wall of your kitchen. The babbling baby in her carrier made you smile as she reached out to you, her feet kicking in excitement as she made eye contact. 

Holding your little girl felt so right, yet so wrong at the same time. Not only was this life forced upon you, but this baby took everything from you. Your passion for dancing and painting, your want to go to college, desire to learn and grow. This creature that is in need of so much care and attention took all of that from you. But so did he. He hurt you the most. 

Every day memories flow through your brain like a movie projecting onto a loosely hanging sheet. Warped, but clear for a person to know what happened. It was your duty to Clarrise that she did not know your past, and that she was brought into this life in a way that is a crime. And she never had to know. Having her not grow up with a father was a sacrifice you were willing to take to keep her protected from the pain you went through.

Your alarm on your phone went off, and you sat down on the couch to feed Clarrise. As you unclipped your padded bra, you froze at the sound of a knock came from the front door. Luckily Clarrise didn’t seem too hungry at the moment, so you slowly approached the door. You looked through the peep hole and saw a man. He had short brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He looked… gentle. 

As you held your child close to your chest you slowly opened the door.

“Can I help you?” 

He looked down at you, a hight difference clearly present. He smiled at the small child in your arms and responded to your question. “Im looking for Carla. Does she live here?” 

You nod and say “I am her, is there something I can do for you?” You ask again, wanting a reason for the sudden visit from this man. He looked back to your face and you made eye contact with him, it was his eyes that looked so familiar. 

“Right, I just moved in down the hall way and wanted to introduce myself. Im James Barnes, and I’m from 107, that way.” He pointed down the hall way and you followed his finger. You nodded with a smile. “Well, its nice to meet you James. Would you like to come in? I was just about to feed this little one, but if you don’t feel comfortable with breast feeding, you don’t have to come in.”

You invite him in, not thinking of the dangers or intents of this man. He kindly accepts and enters your small apartment. Offering him a seat on the couch, you sit down opposite from him in the rocking chair. Putting a cover over Clarrise, you begin to feed her, the milk coming from your breasts entering her mouth as she begins to feed. 

“What brings you to Spain? I don’t know a lot of English speakers here besides the land lord.” You say, wanting to start conversation. He nods and shrugs, smiling softly. 

“I just needed a change of scenery, thats all.” He keeps his answer simple, not knowing how to bring himself to tell you what he did. 

“Have I seen you around? You seem very familiar, maybe in the market?” You ask, knowing you have seen him somewhere. 

This was his chance, this is the time to tell her. 

“No, I don’t think it was in the market,” He says in a sad tone. “It was a while back, I- um, I worked with Hydra. For your father. A-and I was ordered to do something very harmful to you, and I believe it was the result of- of her…” He slowly explains as he takes off his glove, revealing his metal hand. 

Your heart drops, the puzzle piece finally fitting in the right place in your mind. Tears pool in your eyes as you look from his eyes to his hand. The metal one. The memories come flooding back to your head, the nightmares, the feelings, and the eyes. His eyes, those got forbidden eyes. As cold as ice, yet as blue as the ocean of where you pictured yourself at the time of his assault. 

"I am only here to apologize. I am not asking for forgiveness. I am no longer the winte-”

“Why,” you cut him off. “Why did you do it?” Your voice cracks, many emotions coming through your gritted teeth. 

His eyes softened at your broken voice, and he sighs softly looking down at his hand. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“What did my father do? What did he do to you?” You ask, pity also filling your voice as you too know what horrors other prisoners went through. You felt bad, even for him. You tear your eyes away from him, moving them to your baby, his baby. 

“He did horrible things, but nothing compares to what he did to you. What he made me do to you. I- Im so sorry Y/n…” He takes the risk of saying your name, not expecting anything from it. 

“What are you doing here, James? What do you expect me to do?” I ask, trying to understand why he is here. “Did you come to finish the job?” You ask the question that dreaded your mind the moment he told you who he was. 

“No, not at all. I actually came here to offer protection. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me or the life you had to endure when under the horrors of Hydra.”

You considered. You actually considered letting him stay and try to protect you. “What or who am I in danger of?” You counter his offer, trying to prove something but unsure of what. You sigh and shake your head. “Forget about it. Im in the witness protection program, so protection shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Carla. How do you think I found you?” He asks, exposing what he did to find you. 

Your brows furrowed and you glared at him. “I see.”

You didn’t engage anymore, you were numb and didn’t know how to feel about the situation. You felt violated all over again, by the same man. “Leave. Please just go.” You whisper, tears falling freely down your cheeks. Once Clarrise was done eating, you clipped your breast back into your bra and stood up. You didn’t notice James put a card on your coffee table as he made his way to your door. 

“I understand your fears. I hope you have found safety in Spain, Carla.” He said emotionlessly, actually understanding your fears. As he went back to his apartment which he did actually buy, he sighed and shut the door. 

As he dialed the only phone number he actually knew, he slid down the door and sat against it as the line rung. He closed his eyes and let his head hit the door. 

“Hey, you’ve reached Sam Wilson, Trauma counselor at the department of veterans affairs. Please leave a message and I will call you back when I’m free. Thanks!”

“Sam, It’s done. She- She’s crossed off the list.” 

~~~~~~~

Hours had passed by the time you could even speak. “How could he have found us?” You ask as you bounce Clarrise in your arms. The sleeping little girl in your arms was clueless to your question, hopefully dreaming of running free and not in hiding anymore. “My god, maybe it would be good to have protection…” 

You were talking to Clarrise as if she understood, but you knew she didn’t. You give her head a small kiss, looking in the direction of the coffee table in the middle of your small living room. An index card sat on the corner, scribbled on it was a phone number and a sloppy “107” on the bottom. You knew who this was from. 

You sighed and sat on the couch, cuddling your baby close to your chest, clutching her as if she would disappear. Staring at the piece of paper in your hands you contemplate calling him, contemplating on apologizing. Apologizing on your fathers behalf. 

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for your phone and dialed the number. 

~~~~~~~

Bucky jumped at the ring of his cell phone. He instantly recognized the number from the witness protection program website. 

“Hello?”

You took a few seconds before talking. “I know you know who this is. I’m making dinner a-and was wondering if you would like to join me?”

Bucky was taken a back by the sudden invitation, “Oh, sure I would love to. What time should I be there?” 

Responding rather quickly, you said, “Now?”

Before he could say anything, you had hung up and began making dinner. Boiling water for the noodles, opening up some seasonings you had just bought and putting the bread in the oven, you were ready for James. 

He knocked on your door and you put Clarrise in her bassinet in the living room, keeping an eye on her as you cooked. As you opened the door, you smiled softly at James. Instead of fearing him, you wrap your arms around him. He freezes, not yet used to such a gentle gesture from someone. 

As you sigh into him, he returns the hug and softly wraps his arms around you too. “Im so sorry James. Im sorry for everything my father did to you…” You know you shouldn’t have to apologize, but you can’t help but feel obligated knowing what James went through. 

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. It was and never will be your fault. Do you understand me?” James said, giving you a soft squeeze. 

You nod silently in response, and you gently pull away; tears falling from your eyes. Out of instinct, he cups your cheek and tenderly wipes the tears from your cheeks.

You lean into his benevolent touch and look up at him, a sense of security falling over yourself. Even though you knew him as the winter soldier, you knew you were safe with James. You knew that Clarrise was his child as well, and that she was safe with James. 

Gently reaching for his hand, you lead him into your home. He shuts the door behind him, and smiles as you walk to the kitchen continuing your work making dinner. You pause and look over at Clarrise who is now wide awake. 

“Do you want to meet her?” You ask, noticing James looking over at the babbling baby. 

He nods with a smile, subconsciously knowing that Clarrise is his child. As you approach the bassinet, you smile down at her. “Hi sweetheart, are you awake?” You ask in a small voice, smiling as she smiles back up at you. Picking her up, you hold her against your chest, looking to James with a smile. 

“I named her Clarrise, after my mother. Do you want to give her a middle name?” You ask, subconsciously accepting that he is her father. He looked to you and tilted his head. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, not wanting to force himself into the life you and Clarrise already have. You nod and wait for him to give an answer. “What about Sarah? After my sister?” 

Your ears perked at the word ‘sister,’ “You have a sister?” You ask with smile. 

“I had a sister. She um, she passed away a couple years ago. But she was sweet, and I think that it would be perfect for this sweet girl as well.” You smile at his suggestion and nod in approval. 

“Clarrise Sarah Barnes.” You utter, gently handing James your baby girl. “It’s ok, you won’t hurt her, I know you won’t.” Looking up at him, you can see the hesitation in his eyes. As he takes Clarrise in his arms, the connection is clear between them. A father-daughter bond that no one can just create. She was his.

“She’s beautiful, just like her mother.” He subtly compliments you, himself falling for you. This time in the form of true love, not forced love. You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile pulling at your lips. 

“She has her fathers eyes,” You point out Clarrise's blue eyes, still slightly forming as she grows. “And his bravery.” Adding onto her attribute, you look at James face as he interacts with the baby. 

Thinking of his preposition, you say to him, “You know, I wouldn’t mind a little protection. I-it would be nice to not feel so scared going out. Clarrise I bet would love to have her father around as well.” 

You anxiously wait for James’s reaction, hoping he doesn’t think you are moving to fast. Relief flooded your system as he nods. “I promise you, no one will hurt you. Not anymore.” He says, turning his head back to you. “I promise, Carla.”

You shake your head, and wave your hand a little bit. “Y/n is fine. Im sick of being someone Im not.”

He chuckles softly. “Trust me, I get it.” You smile and you move next to him, leaning on his strong bicep as you both look down at your beautiful baby girl. 

“James?”

“Yes, Y/n?” 

You pause.

You smile as he transfers Clarrise back into your arms. She has fallen asleep again, so you put her back in her bassinet. With the knowledge that both of her parents looking down at her, it makes you feel secure and safe. 

You turn to Bucky and look up at him, your hands coming to meet his cheeks. The proximity of the both of you made your heart beat quicker, and your mind blank. You did what you felt was right and leaned forward, connecting your lips with his. His hands hold your waist gently, and he pulls you into him. You pull away breathlessly and he kisses your temple. You move your arms around his torso, and he holds you in an embrace, his chin resting on your head.

"I’d like you to stay. Please.” You answer, a sigh of relief escaping your mouth as you feel him nod his head. 

“Of course, princess, of course.” He cradles the back of your head in his large hand and kisses your forehead once again. He may have hurt you in the past, but he’s gained a little bit of your trust. He showed you that he is sorry, and you understand that it was not his fault. In this new chapter of your life, you know you will make it far.

And so will your baby girl. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x mom!reader #TFATWS!Bucky x reader #Bucky banres x Y/n #slightly dark fic #bucky x reader #Winter soldier x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst

[restinslices]

I found your twilight post with the Lin Kuei brothers amusing and relatable 🤣

Can you do headcannons on watching marvel movies with the reader? Captain America is my favorite character in the movies lol

The MCU is huge so lmk if there was something specific you wanted to know about

Bi-Han

I don’t see any of them watching a lot of movies so you definitely introduced it to him 

He takes the longest time to finish the movies because it’s not on the top of his list when it comes to concerns 

He’s one of those overly critical watchers so he’s annoying as fuck to watch movies with 

I can see him liking Ultron

Why? I think he’d like the concept of Ultron and understand why he’s thinking the way he is 

The type to agree with Thanos until someone points out he could’ve just doubled the resources 

His favorite Phase is Phase 3 purely because Hela is his favorite character in the entire MCU 

He’s legit upset she was killed off 

I’d say which show is his favorite but I only watched Wandavision and TFATWS so moving on-

I don’t know if I see him reading the comics. Maybe if he’s curious enough 

The Avengers and The Guardians of The Galaxy are pinned against each other a lot, but what does he think?

I think it changes a lot. Depends on his mood

One thing’s for sure; he prefers the OG Avengers 

Not one of those Marvel fans that remembers everything and he doesn’t really stay up to date

Hasn’t even watched any of the shows yet 

Please bring Hela back and stop pissing him off. She ain’t do nothing wrong 

Quick afterthought 

He’s Team Cap

He don’t even wanna listen to Liu Kang. Why the fuck would he agree with the government controlling The Avengers?

Kuai Liang

NOT one of the overly critical watchers so thank fuck 

If he spots something that’s off, he’ll call it out but that’s as bad as it gets 

He likes a mix of villains and heroes

If the villains got a point, then they got a point. That’s just how it is.

He likes villains that can become better people. The pure evils ones he’s like “yeah you suck” but villains that are actually victims or who have done certain things but try to become better, he likes 

Because of that I’d say his favorite villain is The Winter Soldier 

He’s done terrible things but Kuai Liang feels pity for him and enjoys his story 

I think either Avengers or Civil War is his favorite movie 

He prefers the og era of the MCU and I think the Avengers as a whole reminds him of his family (petty as fuck towards each other but there’s ultimately love there) and Civil War was a banger

A situation where there’s technically not a right side is a topic I can see him liking 

With that being said, he is both Team Cap and Team Ironman 

Since he follows Liu Kang I can see him being like “sometimes teams need to be reined in and need someone to follow”

But in the same breath this is the same government that is corrupt and has proven themselves as not trustworthy 

And people could always die before the heroes are able to help

Then there’s Bucky and he once again understands why Steve wouldn’t tell but he also understands Tony’s anger 

He stays somewhat up to date when it comes to the new movies and shows 

He knows when they come out but he doesn’t see them right away 

Tomas

I can see him staying up to date and seeing the movies whenever he could 

Has possibly read some comics too?

Prefers Heroes 

Do I wanna say his favorite character is Spider-Man because the PS5 Spider-Man voices Tomas?

Yes

So that’s what imma do

Does he have a favorite Spider-Man?

I’m not sure. I can see him seeing the positives and negatives of all the Spidermen 

Team Cap for the accords 

Team Ironman for the Bucky situation 

His parents were killed so are we surprised? No

The type to see the positives of Phase 4 instead of just saying it’s shit 

Is it the best? No. But it’s not all ass. Damn.

He prefers the Guardians so when Gamora was killed, his heart was in SHAMBLES 

“Maybe Gamora and Peter can fall in love again”

I have bad news 

Favorite Phase is always changing. Each Phase has bangers and non bangers so it changes day to day 

I know I said he loved all the Spidermen but his favorite movie is probably a Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movie 

Do not tell him the Avengers are more like coworkers than family. Do not fuck up his day 

He likes found family movies so he enjoys the movies that focus on the groups 

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang #tomas vrbada smoke #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang headcanons #bi han headcanons #tomas vrbada headcanons #kuai liang x reader #bi han x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #mk1 headcanons

[luna-rainbow]

idk if you've seen that post, it's from years ago at this point, where someone is surprised to hear that Bucky has a disability. i think it's in an ask with a response like HE'S MISSING AN ARM. remembering that left me thinking,,, what are your thoughts on Bucky's own comprehension of his disability? like, i'm sure he experiences chronic pain, and he's aware of his disability *especially once he has a metal arm that can be detatched as we see in tfatws* but i also feel like he might feel guilty taking the title of disabled because he has the serum and is "super" plus he doesn't feel like he deserves the support/help that can and should be given to disabled people when they need it. ALSO he hasn't had all that much time to process as a human rather than a controlled weapon that he is missing an arm. his prosthetic has been welded into him,, with probably less sensation,, but it functions like an arm,, idk i just feel like it probably hits him out of the blue, too 🥲

Oooh thanks for the interesting ask nonnie! And yes I do remember that hilarious post.

Here's my usual disclaimer that this is just throwing out ideas and that canon lends itself to many different interpretations.

I think the first thing to consider is Bucky's relationship with disability as a concept. He was good friends with Steve, a chronically ill person, but sometimes people have a different bias when it comes to invisible illness versus visible body difference. I have seen people, including disabled people, who are more accepting of one type than the other. He had grown up during a time when disability was considered a "defect" and there was talk of eliminating them from the gene pool, so there might be some inherent fear of being seen as "disabled". At the same time, he had also fought through one of the bloodiest wars of human history but also post the antibiotic era, which means a lot of major injuries became survivable compared to WW1. He likely saw many people around him become physically marked in one way or another. I have a feeling that that experience would have reconciled him with the fact that the value of life is greater than physical wholeness. So overall, I think Bucky probably had a fairly accepting view on disability and illness back when he was able-bodied, and while he needs time to process the loss, that acceptance is probably somewhat protective against self-hatred.

The second thing is the curious subject of Bucky's bionic arm. I have met (lower limb) amputees who reject the "disabled" label, because to them once they put on a prosthesis they could walk and run and work and exercise. I think worrying about being "deserving" might be a small part of it, there's a bigger part of worrying about social perceptions of disability -- they didn't want the "handicap" label to be used to hold them back. I suspect you are right, in that Bucky probably sees himself as very capable, even super-humanly so, with the (very high-tech) prosthesis. He most likely feels that being a soldier is a big part of his identity and sense of worth. I suspect also...going back to what Bucky's relationship with the word "disability" means, his interpretation of that (given he came from the 1940s) might mean something that has a profound impact on function, and he may feel that he doesn't fit that mark.

The third thing is Bucky's relationship with body image, which has varied from movie to movie. The Winter Soldier had no qualms flaunting that arm, but then the Winter Soldier had no mind of its own, and its handlers knew the metal arm was intimidating. In both Civil War and TFATWS, we see Bucky wear gloves and long sleeves to hide his arm, which he removes when he starts a mission. It could be that he doesn't want to scare people or draw attention to it day to day, or it could be that he associates the arm with the soldier part of himself and he doesn't want to see it when he's trying to return to a normal life. Interestingly, in Wakanda, Bucky had been quite content to walk around without any sort of prosthesis at all. This might suggest that he's less bothered by the missing arm than he is by the need to wear a weaponised prosthesis.

But you know, people are fickle creatures, and I am sure when he's hit by PTSD or a bout of anxiety or depression, his views on body image and his physical limitations would take a very nasty turn and he would have to work through all the stages of grief again.

#asks #bucky barnes #bucky barnes meta

[5ummit]

It’s been 7 years since Civil War and I still mourn for the Bucky Barnes story we should’ve gotten.

I mourn for how quickly they showed him integrated back into society after CATWS. One moment he’s almost killing his best friend... and the next moment he’s living on his own and seems just fine. Sure, he’s a little quiet and awkward and sad, but he’s mostly pretty normal. Outside of the first half of Civil War, there’s very little evidence at all that would lead anyone to believe Bucky used to be the world’s most feared assassin, who was trained and molded into the perfect weapon through unimaginable pain and psychological manipulation. This man spent the better part of his life as a ruthless, mindless killing machine programmed to do nothing more than follow orders. You don’t just walk away from that without being fundamentally and irreversibly psychologically altered. Even the removal of the trigger words wouldn’t change that.

To clarify, I’m not talking about his lingering feelings of guilt and sadness. I think Seb has done a great job with getting that part across at least. I’m talking about his behavior. About way he interacts with other people and how he handles situations. He doesn’t act like a formerly-brainwashed ex-assassin who was treated as less than human for literal decades and who, by all accounts, should have the most severe form of PTSD known to man.

I just don’t buy the Bucky we see post-CATWS and particularly post-Civil-War. I don’t buy that Bucky would be joking around and flirting and basically acting like Just Some Guy – a grumpy guy but still Just Some Guy – and his recent haircut sure isn’t helping the situation either. That he wouldn’t always be a little bit on edge, a little bit animal (kinda like the way we see him at the beginning of Civil War but then never again). That being in the heat of battle wouldn’t sometimes make him either shut down or completely snap and go into a violent fugue state where he subconsciously reverts back to the brutally efficient methods of the Winter Soldier (we almost got this in TFATWS but they couldn’t commit).

Now maybe he received some absolutely incredible therapy in Wakanda. Maybe it worked wonders on him! The problem is I don’t buy it because I never saw it. I never got to see him struggle to learn how to be a person again. I never got to see him fight back against the thing Hydra turned him into.

It just sucks because I love everything about the concept of Bucky and the Winter Soldier, but the parts they’ve chosen not to show or address are, in my opinion, the most interesting parts of his character. But more than that, the lack of follow through and disconnect between what he was and who he seems to be now makes it really hard for me to see him as a fully-realized person in canon. It’s like my brain registers perfectly who he was in CATFA/CATWS and even kinda sorta now in TFATWS, but there’s this giant chasm in between them that mentally feels like fuzzy static.

How long did it take him to fully shake off the brainwashing and conditioning? When did he start thinking of himself as a human being with agency again? Did he ever have to fight the desire to return to Hydra, the only thing he’s known for 70 years, or was it an easy choice? How long did it take him to start recovering his memories? Has he recovered all of them? Does he now remember everything that happened before and during his time at Hydra? How long did it take him to stop flinching at every sound and expecting Hydra to track him down? How long did it take him to relearn how to interact with people like a normal person? How did he afford food and shelter between CATWS and CACW? How and why did he end up in Romania? Did he travel there immediately after CATWS or did he live somewhere else first? Did he get actual therapy in Wakanda or did they just work their science-magic to remove the trigger words and send him on his way? Is the the soldier still in there? Does he still have to consciously stop himself from using deadly force every time he’s in a fight? Is that why he deliberately avoids carrying any weapons now?

I have so many questions.

Fortunately we have fic and fanon to help fill the void but we shouldn’t have to. Bucky Barnes is one of the most interesting and unique characters to ever exist. There’s so much good stuff to dig into here and it’s been wasted.

They squandered the original opportunity to explore this part of his character when they turned Cap 3 into an Iron Man film, a decision I will forever be mad about (fuck you RDJ/Tony for stealing Bucky’s movie), but they finally had the perfect chance to make up for that with TFATWS! Bucky was getting his own show (6 hours of content!), and with it, plenty of time to really dig into his psyche and lingering trauma! I had hoped to see him relapsing a bit and falling into old patterns. Or maybe being triggered by something and having a panic attack. Or even just talking about his time in Hydra and how it felt to be used like that and his struggles to regain his humanity afterwards (instead they fucking gave Hawkeye the emotional “I was a weapon” speech that Bucky rightfully deserved). But other than that opening nightmare, a few brief teasing lines from Zemo about the solider still being in there (which was never followed through on), and the shittiest excuse for “therapy” I’ve ever seen, we really got nothing.

From everything they’ve shown us, and particularly from the ending of TFATWS, it’s clear Marvel believes Bucky has already “healed” and there’s little left to discuss or explore and it makes me incredibly sad.

#I've had this buried in my drafts for more than a year #might as well post it now because my feelings haven't changed #LET 👏 BUCKY 👏 BE 👏 FUCKED 👏 UP #I refuse to get my hopes up about any of his trauma ever being addressed in thunderbolts either #all I can say is he better still be a sad grumpy boy at the very least #if they really do lean into the happy ending of tfatws #I will RIOT #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel wank #my words #my meta

[burberrycanary]

What's your sticky spot for the old Hollywood fic? It's so interesting to me where things get stuck.

Thanks for the ask! And also for the incomparable @booksandabeer, who asked after this as well 😘

I can’t let this Stucky Old Hollywood idea go—the aesthetic alone! 

I’m not an AU writer so the only way I could do this concept is as canon divergence where the Barnes family moves to Los Angeles rather than Brooklyn when Bucky is a kid—and Bucky becomes a child star. So Steve and Bucky don't meet.

I’ve been slowly working out the concept and completing the foundational research, but lately I’ve fallen into a really meta place around the question: would Bucky still have been drafted? 

The quick version of the historical context is that, unlike later drafts and most iconically the Vietnam draft, WWII-era conscription was conducted by local boards that assigned each registered man a lottery serial number (not the same as an army serial number) after all the completed registration cards were shuffled.[1] Bucky would have registered in October 1940 under the Selective Training and Service Act[2] and could have been called up in any of the three drafts: 29 October 1940, 17 July 1941, 17 March 1942.[3] If Bucky was in a different part of the country—and in consequence subject to a different local board’s instance of this random number assignment process—odds are he would have been assigned a different random lottery serial number, which means he could have been selected in an earlier draft, the same draft or not at all. And there’s no logic for how he would have ended up with the 107th.

And here’s where it gets meta. Because narratively Bucky is drafted to be a foil for Steve, who can’t join the military despite desperately wanting to. And Bucky becomes a POW to motivate Steve into the action that transforms him from a performer to a combatant, thereby achieving Steve’s—and the narrative’s—vision of idealized masculinity. And Bucky falls off the train to push Steve into more radical action against Hydra, which culminates with him putting the plane into the water. Bucky isn’t doomed by the narrative. He’s doomed by Steve’s narrative. In the original work, the pre-TFATWS MCU, Bucky’s suffering only has narrative meaning because of its effect on Steve. And you can argue that things only occur in a story if they have narrative meaning. 

Without having to be a plot device and motivator for Steve, Bucky is theoretically relieved of the narrative requirement of being a POW. He wouldn’t have to fall off that train.

But, at heart, fanfiction is a rejection of this model of narrative meaning. As soon as you create a Bucky-centric reading or write a Bucky-centric version of canon, then his suffering has the potential for intrinsic narrative meaning. And Bucky’s story of victimization and heroic resilience speaks deeply to a lot of people, myself included. Bucky lacks the protagonist’s halo of always beating the odds, of the doors always closing just after safely jumping through, of being able to close that gap and grab the hand reaching out for him, and of being looked for by friendlies and discovered as still alive in the cold. Of course, if Bucky was a protagonist, the serum would have kicked in faster; he would have broken his own restraints; he would have rescued himself and the remnants of the 107th. 

But that’s not Bucky’s narrative function. 

Bucky is so fascinating to me because his story doesn’t follow the pattern of male-hero-protagonist. He has a sympathetic villain’s narrative arc but then refuses to become a villain. So, in this revisionist analysis, Bucky is doomed and saved by his own narrative. And this is why I’m leaning toward Bucky still being drafted, even if his experience of the war plays out differently, but not making him a POW so long as the part of Bucky’s story that's about being controlled and dehumanized by larger forces can be transferred to a different part of the narrative. 

I’ll sign off with this piece of inspiration about Mickey Rooney, an iconic child star of the era:

Mayer naturally tried to keep all his child actors in line, like any father figure. After one such episode, Mickey Rooney replied, "I won't do it. You're asking the impossible." Mayer then grabbed young Rooney by his lapels and said, "Listen to me! I don't care what you do in private. Just don't do it in public. In public, behave. Your fans expect it. You're Andy Hardy! You're the United States! You're the Stars and Stripes. Behave yourself! You're a symbol!”[4]

Sources:

1. World War II Selective Service Draft Registrations

2. The Selective Training and Service Act of 1940

3. Wood, Richard G., comp., Records of the Selective Service System, 1940-47 (PI 27); National Archives (NARA), 1951.

4. Wayne, Jane Ellen (2005). The Leading Men of MGM. Carroll & Graf Publishers. p. 246

#stucky #stucky meta #bucky barnes meta #thanks for the ask! #bucky barnes #bucky barnes needs a hug #old hollywood au

[lightning-writes]

good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 16/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: …until he’s not alone (alternatively - rue had other intentions)

word count: 2452 

tags: post endgame, pre tfatws, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: none

a/n: part 2 of bucky's thanksgiving is very spicy :)

AO3 MASTERLIST X

(When was the last time Bucky was nervous about seeing a girl?

Maybe, it was the first time he’d kissed a girl, at fifteen. Or maybe it was the first time he went on a date with a girl, Katherine Brown. Or maybe, it was the first time he’d snuck out of his house to see a girl at her house, at seventeen; he’d climbed the tree by her house, to her window, and nearly fell when the porch light came on.

Actually, it might have been the time he had sex for the first time, the night before he was deployed, with Dottie Clark. He was twenty, and all he could think was he needed to do this, to be a man, before he proved himself a man in the war.)

He knocks on the door, and in the moments it takes her to answer, he wonders what the hell he’s doing here. Does she expect something from him? Is something going on with her? Flashes of her tearful face fill his memory.

(Is this some sort of unusual trap? his brain screams. Is she revealing her villainous intentions?)

The door opens. Rue’s hair is down, thick waves over her shoulders, and she’s still in that green dress. Close now, he sees its velvet with a deep neckline. He sees the tattoo of crossed knives and a curling design disappearing beneath her breasts.

(He sees gooseflesh ripple over her skin as the cold from outside comes in.)

His eyes quickly zip back to hers. She noticed him noticing her. He passes a nervous hand through his hair.

“Hey.” She leans her head against the door and offers a lazy smile. “Glad you could make it.”

He studies her. He can’t tell if her smudged makeup and red eyes are from tiredness or tears. “Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier.”

“Better late than never.” She moves aside, stretching an arm to invite him in. “I like this better.”

(The alarm bells in his head won’t let him admit it, but he likes it better too.)

Bucky walks in and surveys the open concept of kitchen, dining room, and living room. There’s a big Christmas tree, not yet dressed, in the space between dining and living room. There are still plates and food in the dining room and kitchen. The light is warm and low, candles burning on the table.

“My roommate is staying at her boyfriend’s place,” she tiptoes to get some wine glasses. Her dress rides up. He sees the word ADORE on the back of her right thigh. “So, I’m on clean up duty.”

“I could help,” Bucky offers, clearing his throat after a beat.

“You’re sweet.” She pulls the stopper from the already open red wine bottle easily, pouring it into a glass. “Do you want some wine? I have stronger stuff, too.”

“I’ll pass for now.”

(He can’t tell if it’s because he hasn’t seen her drunk before, but his intuition says something is wrong. He doesn’t ask her yet, though, afraid it might trip a wire in her.)

“Okay.” She takes a deep drink from her glass. She starts bringing plates into the kitchen with her free hand. At this rate, she’ll be here all night. He starts to help. “Oh, are you hungry?” she asks, “We have tons of leftovers.”

“I’m good for now,” he sticks with this line.

“But I made pumpkin pie.” She pouts a cute pout. She must know how cute it is. “Please, have some.”

He relents, “I’ll have a slice.”

She grins and puts her glass down to serve a slice. “How was your Thanksgiving, what did you do?”

(Panic flares up his throat when his mind flashes to Evie. His brain short-circuits when he watches her spray whipped cream in her mouth after spraying some of his pie.)

He lies, saying he went to George’s. She moves around the kitchen, a little wobbly, a little sloppy, cleaning up as he talks and eats pie, leaning against the counter. She asks about the gym, about George; she also asks about Sam, if they ever reconciled.

(When she bends to load the dishwasher, he notes the curve of her ass and the nakedness down the front of her dress. He keeps averting his eyes despite his nature to stare.)

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she suddenly asks. She’s nearly done clearing the table and counters.

Bucky braces himself for the worst. Questions about being the Winter Soldier, about Hydra, about his missions, about his brainwashing. About his sessions with Raynor, about his friendship with Steve or Sam. His brain even, briefly, considers this question a play for her to reveal she is a secret agent.

“Okay.”

“Did you disappear, five years ago?” She hops up onto a counter, a little taller than him. “Like… dusted?”

“Was I snapped?” He repeats it because this is the funniest question he would have never imagined her asking. She nods, eyeing him curiously. “Yeah… yeah, I was.”

“What was that like?”

(To the untrained eye, her expression looks open and curious. But Bucky can see how curated it is, the mask of interest when she has a different motive, a different feeling about this question. He wants to pull that cord, but what if it detonates something?)

“It was like… nothing,” he answers honestly, “one minute I’m there, one minute I’m crumbling away. And when I came back, I knew there was something going on because I was ready to fight.”

“I wonder if it was like that for everyone.” She goes for her wine glass and realizes it’s empty. Her eyes wander to the counter behind him, to the bottle, but he pretends not to notice. “Maeve was dusted,” she says into the empty glass.

“I know, you told me.”

“Right… she never told me what it was like, when she was gone. She just told me she was glad to be back.” When Bucky doesn’t speak, she says, “I proposed to her the day she got back, you know.”

His brows raise. “Really?”

She nods, “If it wasn’t for Vick, I would have married her that weekend.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, putting his plate in the dishwasher, next to her swinging legs. She has a tattoo of a dragonfly on her shin closest to him. He looks up at her, but her gaze is miles away.

“She showed up tonight.” Her voice is low.

“I thought she was MIA.”

Rue’s eyes fill with tears, but anger sets her jaw. “Yeah, well, she interrupted dinner, and even though everyone basically told her she’s not welcome here, she insisted on talking to me.”

“What did she say?”

(He knows Rue spoke to Maeve. He knows because he would have done the same. It would have been less about the conversation and more about wanting to press a thumb into the bruise that is heartbreak. Bucky thinks he and Rue are more alike than what meets the eye.)

Tears streak her face, but her voice doesn’t break, “She’s engaged.”

The final blow of the story propels her to her feet, and she pours the last of the wine into her glass. He hadn’t noticed how much she’d been drinking.

“I think… I’ll have that stronger stuff now,” Bucky says after a beat. This makes her laugh, wine to her mouth, a wet hysterical laugh turning into a drowned cry.

Bucky crowds her slumped frame. She’s not short, but in this state, she’s so small. She heaves a deep cry, painful sounds coming out of her, and Bucky carefully hugs her. He’s had to comfort people before, but not like this. Not inconsolable sobs that didn’t have an answer his wit or fists couldn’t handle. She slowly melts into his chest, her head pushed under his chin, her cries shaking her body. But he remains solid.

(Anger plumes like a smoke bomb in his chest. Maeve is something evil, to know Rue and to hurt her like this. Though they haven’t known each other long, he knows Rue hides behind the guise of naivety, and he knows she’s built of stronger stuff. To see Rue like this, he knows Maeve is a true villain. He holds Rue tighter, a sudden realization that he wants to protect her at all costs, against any threat, physical or emotional.)

“Ugh, I’m sorry.” She rips herself from him, stumbling back to the other counter. Her frenzied hands wipe her flooded face. “I keep dumping this nonsense on you, and god, the crying–”

“Stop.” Her eyes snap to his, and he takes her shoulders. Her eyes are still watery, but she seems to melt under his gaze. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Bucky…” her forehead slams into his chest.

“You don’t.” His tone is firm. “Now, can I ask you a personal question?”

She peeks up at him through a squinted eye.

“I guess it’s only fair.”

“How many tattoos do you have?”

She laughs, her confused eyes searching his expression for something, but he can’t pick up what.

“Maybe twenty something? Mostly small ones. And that excludes these guys,” she holds up her hands to show the dots and little doodles decorating her knuckles. Then, she covers her face. “Do you want to see an embarrassing one?”

“When you put it like that…”

She turns her back to him, unzipping her dress. His face heats, but when she stops half way and the dress falls from her shoulders, he nearly laughs. At the base of her neck is a small pair of angel wings; to the right, she has flowers flowing from her back onto her shoulder, and on the left, there’s a large blue outline of the Avenger’s ‘A’ emblem.

The blue pops against her tan skin. But then, he sees it. The scar running through one of the legs of the ‘A’. It’s raised and crude, a little darker than her skin. Without thinking, he traces it with a finger, feeling the imperfection of it.

(She shivers. He doesn’t shrink back.)

“I got it after the alien attack, back in 2012.” She tries to rezip the dress on her own; Bucky helps her gently. “I was about to get crushed by a falling building, but then, your buddy,” she turns to give him a meaningful look, “had pushed me out of the way. He’d used the shield to keep us from getting hurt. I mean, my back obviously had been hit by some debris, but…” she shrugs. “He saved me.”

After a beat, Bucky says flatly, “So… you’re, like, a super fan.”

(She laughs, and he really likes it.)

////

“I… I don’t want to be alone,” she had said. “Please stay?”

He agrees.

She gets him a drink of bourbon Victoria’s boyfriend leaves for himself. She turns off the overhead light in the dining room, plunging the whole space into darkness, aside from the candles on the table. She moves around him in the dark, despite her drunkenness, maneuvering to switch a few lamps on in the living room. She tells him to wait there before disappearing into her room.

He takes off his jacket, resting it on the back of one of the dining chairs, and sits on the couch, getting comfortable. He fiddles with his knife, the one usually in his boot, while he sips the bourbon. It’s good.

She returns, wearing an oversized shirt and a fluffy robe. She stands in the space between his splayed knees. He’s got an arm around the back of the couch, so he has to look up at her.

“Can I tell you something?”

Her face is void of makeup or expression. He’s curious.

“Sure.”

“This was supposed to be a booty call.”

(His eyes land on her thick bare thigh, a fresh and complicated tattoo design disappearing under the hem. He registers that she isn’t wearing anything beneath the shirt by the barbell piercings through her nipples.)

“Yeah, I could see that,” he says evenly, gaze drifting back up to hers.

She shifts her weight to one hip, making the shirt lift on one side. He keeps his eyes on her half-lidden ones.

“But that wouldn’t be fair,” she says.

(He sees she’s nervous. Maybe not nervous, just on edge. Anticipating.)

“To you.”

“To me?” he echoes in shock. He raises an amused brow. He moves his knee to touch hers. She doesn’t move. “How isn’t it fair to me, Ruby?”

Her nostrils flare at her full name, but it's a sharp breath she takes.

“You deserve better than to be used,” she says matter-of-factly.

(He’s not sure why, but that spears him through the heart.)

“Same to you,” he returns. “You also drank almost a whole bottle of wine.”

“You could have helped.”

“I don’t think anything was stopping you,” he says, lapsing into a chuckle. “Not even a super soldier.”

His eyes stay on hers, and he takes another drink from his glass.

(Maybe he’s anticipating too.)

“I just don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

He leans forward, and he sees her tense. He uses the hilt of the knife to lift the hem of her shirt. He also notes how gooseflesh travels up her hip.

“It’s a tarot card, Death,” she breathes, like any sudden movement might startle him. From stopping. “It means–”

“Ending a cycle, new beginnings, change.” He anchors his metal hand against her thigh, tracing the skull design with his thumb. He hears her swallow. “It’s new.”

“Yeah.”

He looks up at her as he pulls away from her. Her gaze is thick and sharp. The city and the world outside of the apartment fades as he focuses on her haloed in warm light.

(Her lips are still stained from the wine. They look like she’d been in a hot-and-heavy kissing session, and it makes him hard thinking about it.)

“I’m following your lead here,” his voice is low.

“That’s not fair.”

He smirks, knowing it’s his advantage. “I’m a gentleman.”

“Okay.”

When he leans back as she moves, he’s anticipating her to settle onto his lap. Instead, she sits next to him and grabs the remote. She turns it on without looking at him, and he can’t help but smile while tucking his knife back into its holster concealed by his boot.

“Hey, wait, I like that show,” he points. She goes back to the channel she’s passed.

“You’re a Trekkie?”

“It was one of the few shows in Russian,” he says, “in the 70’s.”

He raises his arm and looks at her expectantly. She studies him for a moment, and he wonders what’s passing through her mind. He wonders if she’s fighting the same thing he is. Finally, she yields, tucking herself into his side.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #female reader #female oc #bucky x oc #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x woc!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky fic #bucky barnes au #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #marvel #mcu #whump #fanfiction #slow burn #friends to lovers #mutual pining #good heart (faulty machine of a man) #fmoam

[intrepidacious]

✩ upcoming wips

main masterlist | navigation

i haven't been posting a lot lately because i'm a slow writer and life has been kicking my butt but i've wanted to let you take a peek at what i've been cooking up in the background!!

what little attention i have at the moment has been going into time after time but there's a lot of ideas constantly swirling around in my head and i've wanted a place to put some of them. shockingly, these aren't even all of my wips. yeah, i know.

this is just a snapshot of the most prominent fic ideas i've been working on at the moment which means that plots and especially titles might still get changed. also i'm not committing to any sort of schedule with these so keep that in mind :')

please feel free to ask questions about any and all of these and i'll do my best to answer <3

✩ one shots

a smile that cold - ransom drysdale x f!reader - au inspired by daphne du maurier's rebecca - (well, mostly by its musical adaptation, which is great) - i'm going full gothic/seasonally spooky vibes in this one - tropes: widower remarries, mystery, dark-ish (well, there's murder), perhaps a hint of spice - status: mostly done, but still missing a chunk in the middle

to home afar - bucky barnes x freader - the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society au - (oh yes we're going there) - i love this book and this au so much but i just haven't had the time to focus on it - tropes: 40s!bucky, dad!bucky, writer!reader, one (1) broken engagement, fitzsimmons appearance, hints of epistolary storytelling, pen pals to friends to lovers - status: about halfway done, still missing some connective tissue

all that's been (and all that won't) - bucky barnes x f!reader - buffy the vampire slayer au - tropes: slayer!reader, vampire hunter!bucky, friends to lovers, inspired by me rereading all the vampire knight manga so if you know those you'll see the twist coming, canon-typical violence - status: conception phase, some scenes written

stay here forever - 40s!bucky barnes x f!reader - a continuation of first date, last night - this was a plan ever since i posted that story and yet - tropes: friends to lovers, mutual pining resolved, tfa!bucky, kinda angsty, will probably get another part … - status: mostly written, missing connective tissue

just for spite - bucky barnes x witch!reader - originally inspired by a moodboard by @treatbuckywkisses - this has been sitting in my drafts for an embarrassingly long time - might end up being a collection of loosely connected one shots - tropes: post tfatws!bucky, practical magic vibes, there's a cat, slow burn? maybe? - status: first part done, some more scenes written

death becomes him - steve rogers x grim reaper!reader - inspired by a mix of meet joe black, elisabeth (the musical, not the movie), the fairy tale godfather death, and the show dead like me - this is such a weird idea and i need to write it so bad - tropes: canon-compliant-ish, slow burn, artist!steve, will probably include time jumps, dark-ish for obvious reasons - status: random scenes written

tomorrow - steve rogers x reader - inspired by the river song storyline in doctor who - (yes you read that right) - i love using my most random au ideas for steve, i think this works so well and i'm so excited about it - tropes: opposing timelines, kind of slow burn kind of established relationship, goes through steve's entire mcu timeline - status: scenes written, writing time shenanigans is tiring if that's all you do though :')

ghost light - lighthouse keeper!steve rogers x reader - (yeah) - this one is so random but i cannot stop thinking about it - tropes: retired!steve, maybe a little angsty but it's fine really, either writer!reader or barista!reader - status: vibes and like two paragraphs

mirror's image - endings, beginnings!frank x reader - fic based on "why'd you only call me when you're high" by the arctic monkeys - tropes: fwb, drug consumption, angst and spice, idk if this will have a happy ending or not - status: about one third done

✩ series / AUs

dear heart, it's me - anthology based on the amazing devil's album "the horror and the wild" - listen for vibes 😌 - will probably posted for a milestone celebration - pairings include: stucky, bucky barnes x reader, natasha romanoff x reader, wanda maximoff x reader, jefferson x reader, steve harrington x reader (more tbd) - status: one fic stuck in revision, three more started, real excited for one additional one atm

nothing else will do - continuation/expansion of my rewritten drabble - think medieval-ish fantasy vibes, once upon a time with some princess bride thrown in there - pairings include: outlaw/pirate!steve rogers x reader, knight!bucky barnes x reader - status: lots of daydreaming and some random scenes put onto paper

occupy my brain - continuing these two drabbles - ransom drysdale x reader - there will be at least two more chapters but i am aiming to keep this one short and sweet - status: it’s more or less planned out, if only someone would finish writing it down that’d be great

come fly with me - introducing my pilot!bucky au!! - i’m not sure where it came from either but i’m having fun and it grew out of my control fast - series of connected one shots within the same universe - (i also have plans for sam and steve with this one!!) - status: not a priority rn, but i have a couple of ideas floating around my brain

read you like a book - library au!! - you’ve already been introduced to this universe’s bucky and steve and i love them dearly - status: again, not a priority at the moment but they’re coming

something bout you - beloved - ngl returning to this one is probably gonna hurt but i still want it to exist - college au steve rogers x reader - this is my childhood friends fake dating au that i made up for ren - status: hopefully i will return to this one day after tat is done

i feel awkward tagging people in this but do feel free to reblog this and do tell me about your favourites lmao okay have a nice weekend 🫶🏼

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mcu fanfic #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #writing update #intrepidacious

[barneswilsonrogers]

while it is obviously the correct character choice for sam to remain un-superserumed in mcu canon, it would be objectively hilarious in fanfic for him to get sexually transmitted super soldier serum from steve and/or bucky (don’t question how that works it’s for the humor)

Someone actually wrote a sambucky fic like this! I FORGOT THE TITLE SOMEONE HELP

Sam pretending to sleep with super soldiers for the cheesiest reasons like THIS IS FOR THE GREATER GOOD!!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FIGHT KANG AND HIS GODDAMN DYNASTY? BUCKY IS THE LAST SUPER SOLDIER ON EARTH! (as if the serum is impossible to recreated, tfatws proof it's not that hard to make LMAO)

bucky and steve just play along and they continue to have sex until all of them caught feelings... OMG IM OBSSESED WITH THIS CONCEPT

#sambucky #what was that fic again??? AGRH i shouldve bookmarked it #anon

[buckets-and-trees]

haunting thoughts on hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have

read it here: hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Bucky x gn!Reader, side Sam Wilson Word Count: 2k Content/Concept Warnings: DARK FIC, entrapment, somnophilia, dub-con, non-con, entrapment, non-graphic sexual situations (p in v), magic, sorcery, manipulation, trickery… 

RECAP: Bucky reluctantly agreed to visiting Wanda at the remote cabin in the first place, but a nice afternoon turns into a darker night than Bucky ever could have anticipated. [Takes place after WandaVision and TFATWS but before Multiverse of Madness.]

So this one was honestly pretty thrilling for me to write because I went in knowing this was going to be dark and that I was going to be unapologetic about it.

I loved WandaVision. I also mostly loved Multiverse of Madness.

I have this concept for a very long Bucky WIP post-TFATWS that I may or may not every actually get around to publishing, but one of the ideas I had for that was a Sam-and-Bucky-go-visit-Wanda because they're doing some mild superhero business and happen to be in the neighborhood scene. I still really liked that idea, so I lifted it and made it dark for a March writing challenge that I was flirting with doing. The rest of my thoughts are going to thoroughly address plot points...

I made the point showing the conversation between Sam and Bucky for Bucky to explain why he was hesitant to visit Wanda, for Sam to explain it away, and Bucky to agree specifically so it could all be smashed in the end and everything Bucky feared to be true. 😏

I came up with the term 'umbrabus' as a shadow succubus and I really honestly loved this concept because Wanda really does think it's an "elegant solution and practically harmless" way for her to build her power.

And then I love that as Bucky pieces everything together, Wanda is totally open with him about what she's doing - she's absolutely enjoying him work it out knowing she's got him in her trap already.

Also, I used the word preternatural, and I loved that. Shh. I know maybe that's silly. But I did.

And yeah I loved how mean it was for Wanda to conjure your form for the umbrabus when Bucky thought of you and the cruelty of the sex with you before he gets to ever be with you. It just...it hit my evil side. It felt so deliciously twisted - and just the dialogue about happiness and pleasure, torturing him?

And Wanda at this point is just beyond convinced that any of this is wrong because she's also wiping their memories to only dreams of the sexual encounters.

This one is definitely a one-shot, I never saw a need or had a want for any follow up stories, but...I seriously forgot how much I loved this, so I'm excited to share it again.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

#bucky barnes x reader #writer commentary #aspen's dark forest fest #wanda maximoff

[winterarmyy]

Self Rec Love

𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴. 𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 💜 

Hi you! Thank you so much for the ask. Who doesn't love some self-love right? So here's my top 3 fics that i have written so far:

1. Promise Me ft. 40s!bucky / tfatws!bucky

- I think this is quite an underrated fic that I wrote. But fun fact, it was my fav to write, honestly. I enjoyed exploring the reincarnation concept for the reader. This was also the first time I wrote something describing a loss that can't been redeemed (aka death), which was the scene where the reader got the letter of Bucky's death from the train. And I must admit I have a thing for the concept of 'losing faith in what you've always believed in' which you can see in this fic, specially the church scene. Besides, I do love writing the couple's dynamic when they were in the 40's and building the anticipation for their reunion in the future. I suggest you read it if you haven't already; don't worry it though it does have a happy ending. I can't do angst without happy ending lol.

2. Welcome Home... Soldat? ft. winter soldier!bucky

- Funny enough, this was written from a random scene that had been playing in my head, which was the kitchen scene in part 1; I remember having the images played out in my head constantly for days on end. I just had to write it down and I thought it would end there. Turns out, other people also adored our soft & smitten soldat as much as I did. A particular aspect that loved exploring was the take that I did for soldat's persona; I tried to potrayed with to have this kind of innocence to him. Since he didn't have a choice what to do/feel when he was with Hydra, now he is just overwhelmed with feelings he never felt before. I could go on and on but I'd rather stop here lol. And dare I say, this has been a fan fav amongst my works.

3. And You're Mine ft. chubby alpha!bucky

- This fic though. I mean, it's grumpy chubby alpha bucky. What else can I say? He's adorable and sweet and perfect to me. And its my first time writing a/b/o dynamics too! Prolly, not very accurate to the lore but yknow... I'm trying. And I love how gentle the reader is towards bucky, because my goal for this fic is to get the grumpy x gentle dynamics. Not sunshine, gentle. Because in my head, sunshine character is like very, very cheerful and has this unmeasurable bursts of energy, which is cute. Don't get me wrong. But don't see much about gentle readers, like the type of person that makes you feel calm and feels soft and comfy around them. I think it compliments grumpy personality really well. And I want to see more of those dynamics, and what they could be.

Read all the fics (and more) here: Masterlist

#random asks 💌 #yinn replies ✍🏻 #self rec #bucky fic #bucky fic rec #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky smut #bucky angst

[captainpikeachu]

The Dora Milaje fight is multiple levels of frustration for me.

I understand the tantalizing concept of seeing strong badass competent Black women knocking down a peg against the symbol of white imperialism and colonization, except as usual, TFATWS plays with political and social commentary with no understanding of the nuance or the ability to actually follow through on what it wants a pat on the back for trying to criticize. And they end up making the Dora look like a bunch of politically unsavvy doofus who lost their target and nearly started an international incident for the offense of white arrogance.

Firstly, both John and the Dora want the same thing, to take Zemo into custody. Having a fight in the middle of all this literally did nothing except let Zemo get away and wasting their time to have to chase after him. They were lucky Zemo simply just went to the memorial and waited to be caught, what if Zemo had just wanted to disappear and they never found him again. They didn’t know what Zemo was going to do.

Secondly, numerous moves during that fight could have easily been fatal had John and/or Lemar didn’t have quicker reflexes and managed to parry off the hits. So did the Dora want John and Lemar dead? Or were they just messing around to scare them? If it’s the latter then it’s again wasting time to let Zemo get away. And if it’s the former, then I fail to understand how it helps Wakanda internationally if the Dora Milaje killed Captain America on foreign soil. Why would the Dora do something that purposefully puts their country in international crossfires in such a dumb and obvious way? It makes them look incompetent.

I get that John shouldn’t have touched Ayo, and if she smacked him, I wouldn’t have an issue with it. But the way this fight was done, it just makes little sense. And sure on a first glance maybe it’s a surface level cool fight scene of the Dora being badasses, but it just ends up on deeper analysis looking like the creatives simply needed a cool looking fight scene to knock John down a peg without considering how it makes the Dora actually look incompetent. They’re supposed to be spies and protectors who know when and where to strike, yet here we have them nearly starting an international incident by almost killing the new Captain America, which would have brought a political nightmare to their country’s doorstep — how are they protecting Wakanda by escalating trouble?

And that whole line about the Dora having jurisdiction wherever it finds itself to be — it’s deeply uncomfortable how that line is spoken and supported unironically by the narrative and fandom, effectively saying ignoring and invading other countries’ sovereignty is totally cool as long as it’s the people we like doing it.

Literally all they had to do to make that Dora fight scene work at the very least within the narrative is actually let John throw the first punch so the Dora has to get through him to get to Zemo. But for some reason they decided to make the Dora do it first when John is trying to de-escalate and come to a compromise and the whole thing lets Zemo escape and Sam and Bucky spends a part of that fight basically watching from the sidelines like it’s a funny joke. Imagine if John hadn’t been quicker with his reflexes, what if what happened to Lemar later happened to John then in that fight? Who would be laughing and mocking and finding the situation funny then?

For a story that certainly doesn’t hold back on critiquing John, it never takes a critical look at its own perceived heroes/protagonists. The show lacks so much self awareness.

#breckstonevailskier #mcu discussions asks

[buckybarnesevents]

Hi, could I give a shout out to a Bucky Barnes month long event that I'm a part of isn't getting much attention? It's a small fandom involving an interracial ship from TFATWS and I thought to reach out to you hoping some people who aren't racist will see it and join. The blog is Fleurdelouvemonth. They accept late submissions and the prompts are a good variety. The mods there are chill which is a plus.

Absolutely! That's a lovely concept.

For anyone who hasn't heard, please check out their Tumblr, here.

Check out the November post here!! We will queue the post for reblogging, also.

#other events promo #sarahbucky #Bucky Barnes fanworks #fandom event

[bbyboybucket]

Hiiiii hope you are having a lovely day!!! For the WIP ask game, how about Redwing? Would love to know more ;)

Hiii!! Thanks for sending this! ♥️

So not very much of it is written so I can’t really give a snippet :/

Butttttt the fic is a canon extension of TFATWS episode 4, in which Bucky and Sam have another conversation after their heart to heart. Essentially, Sam explains how he understands why Bucky is so attached to the shield and feels like it’s his last connection to Steve, because he’s the same way with redwing. Sam confides in Bucky about Riley, and reveals that redwing was Riley’s code name before he was killed and that’s why he’s so attached to the drone(s), because it’s a reminder of Riley. And the boys kinda just bond over sharing their feelings and having a similar way they’ve grieved.

I hope to one day actually get this written because I really like the concept but knowing me, it might be a long time 🥲

#it’s basically just an outline atm so I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a sneak peek #so it prolly has a better chance of getting written and uploaded than the others #this is one of the few wips I actually have my sights set on #but yeah I just really like this concept #I didn’t come up with this headcanon tho #I saw someone else say it once and it kinda just inspired me lol #wish I remembered who it was 💔 #anyways thanks for asking ♥️ #asks #sam wilson #bucky barnes #Sambucky #<< tagging that but idk if I’ll end up making it slash or gen #either way it’s a bonding thing for them so